


Star Wars: Series of unfortunate events

by Thraus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thraus/pseuds/Thraus
Summary: A story of universe-hopping OC/SI and his efforts to leave the galaxy a better place.A Star Wars story set in the old EU starting some time before the Prequels. SI story with minor 40K theme callbacks.It is mainly story of good meaning moronic individual wielding more power than he has any right to.Rated M for darker aspects of EU, swearing and overall things that any faint-hearted people should avoid. EU aspects hold sway, such as Qui-Gon/Tahl and Obi/Siri pairings.





	1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE  
PLACE: WHO THE HELL KNOWS?! I SURE DON’T.  
TIME: MUST BE MORNING, hangovers are worse in the morning, DEFINITELY MORNING.

My mind once again comes into contact with my physical body and I can fully appreciate the feeling of the worst hangover in the history of the universe, or something that feels remarkably close to it.

“My head!” I curse mentally. I have a feeling as if someone crashed into me with entire warp-damned-battleship. After a second or two of introspections I come to a startling realisation. It is not only my head that makes me crave tearing it off but the rest of my body too. That triggers a red-flag somewhere inside my still rebooting brain.

“Ugh, did I get into a fight last night?” I think and then immediately answer myself, “No, I am fairly certain that I didn’t.”

Details of last night are a bit murky but I am 99% certain that I did not get into a fight, or get run over by a battleship, because that is the only thing that could explain this kind of utter wastedness, right? Well there is a possibility of having spent last night with my beloved, which would explain the tired feeling my muscles are claiming and the headache, but lately (as if the last fifty years is “lately”) neither of us were in any mood whatsoever for that.

“Think you fool! Think,” I berate myself.

Events of the last night come crawling back to me one little tidbit at the time, and little that helps me. If those memories are correct, which they usually are, since I can’t forget a damn thing anymore, I haven’t come within a lightyear of the nearest bar. Alright, maybe not literally a lightyear but the notion still stands  
.  
“Warp damn this, time for some answers,” I finally give up coaxing my memory into helping me uncover this latest mystery.

My ears are ringing, no help there. I smell piss, excrement, wet fur and milk?!, “The hell?”  
My whole body is covered with pricing sensation, as if a thousand pins were stuck into my skin, to top it off, my limbs are numb and barely respond to my wishes with such sluggishness that I fail to find the proper term.

With herculean effort, “Herculean, heh, good thing that I have this memory of mine, otherwise I would have forgotten teachings from my original home millennia ago.” 

I force my eyes, which were to my belief the last fully functioning sense, open and I quickly evaluate my last assumption and close them again. “NOPE, all my senses are not working. Or maybe I am insane.” Really, both are equally likely scenarios. Because what I have seen can’t be truly real. Well, time to try again. Once more I attempt to open my eyes and I see it yet again.

Did some dumb maiden world colonist on the fringes of The Federation teritory screw a fish and had a child with it? And then someone hit it with some kind of enlarging beam or whatnot? 

Because that is what I am currently looking at. Some weird gigantic humanoid creature resembling human with overall anatomy and structure yet with strikingly large amount of well for lack of a better term, fishy, addons and overhauls. Mostly the skin which has a bit rubbery tinge, prolonged head and disproportionately large hands. Not like I can see much more than that given the baggy clothes of the being. But still it is quite easy to see something remarkably resembling general shape of human mammaries.

Then my brain, switching to overdrive and trying to come online as fast as is possible, starts taking in my surroundings. I seem to be lying on my back, on the ground, as far as the inputs of my other treacherous senses tell me.

I am currently located in an enormous cavern with surprisingly large amount of yellowish-golden tinged sunlight. Class G star from the looks of it.  
Really brain? You can’t figure out what happened to the body attached to you, but you can easily identify the big ball of gasses you are slinging around by its rays?

Back to the cavern at hand. It looks less like a cavern and more like a really big room with somewhat pleasing aesthetics, a lot of curves, matte gray-ish colour on every surface. Here and there golden trim, or really sparkly deep yellow. None of really explains why does it have such an enormous appearance.

One overwhelming effort and slight turn of my neck to the left leaves me with a view from particularly handily placed window, as in whole-wall-sized window. Behind said window I can see city with somewhat tall skyscrapers. They look nice, not really breath-taking, mind you.

Seeing my homeworld standing as a hearth of galaxy-spanning civilization with slight need to compensate with big weapons and even bigger structures and vessels tends to skew a perspective a bit. Okay, I admit, it may not have been slight need, more like unrelenting urge. It is exceedingly hard to impress me with engineering achievements since then. Yet, it needed to be admitted that this metropolis did possess certain je ne sais quoi about it.

My ears informed me of some kind of sound that if put to words would sound vaguely like “Whoosh!”. 

Deciding to put my city-seeing on hold and find out what is going on I turn my head searching for the origin of the noise with considerably less effort than before. It takes only a fraction of a second to deduce, to my everlasting pride at that moment, that said noise had been caused by opening and subsequent closing of sliding doors located in the wall furthest from me. Another millisecond and I find the cause of this perplexing phenomenon, two beings have entered my little kingdom of What-In-The-Name-Of-Sanity-Is-Going-On.

The first, clearly a female or a considerably well-endowed male, tall with regal standing, somewhat pointier ears than normal and fully covered in fur with yellow/green feline retinas. “Felinid,” my brain helpfully supplied. 

Only there is a slight catch, said felinid is as gigantic as the fish-thing already present in the room, as well as a dozen or so other minor biological differences. It is the second being that sends my brain into screeching halt, perilously close towards something that could be called the infamous Blue Screen Of Death. 

I have decided to make a check-list just to be sure.

Small, squatish? Check, relatively.  
Green? Check.  
Last strands of long gray hair? Check.  
Long pointy ears? Check.  
Wooden walking stick? Check.  
Slower than a crippled snail? Check.  
Beige cloak? Check.

With that realisation I took a second look around the room, now fairly certain it was one, the two other beings in said room and a quick peek through the window. One submitted and empirically, as was within my powers, proven hypothesis later and I was more and more certain that I have succeeded in escaping the last dimension I have found myself in and landed in an unspeakably better one. 

It certainly wasn’t anywhere close to my original home, the backwater M.3 Terra with no aliens and absolutely no Warp. A paradise gifted by heavens. Nonetheless this reality sure as hell was better than the realm of crippling insanity and flying bodily fluids in which I have lived for the last five millennia.

Admittedly, it had been my immense luck to appear during the Golden Age of Humanity but lately the whole Long Night and Iron War business had been nearing a bit too close for comfort. Hence the efforts of the last millennium trying to find a way of recreating the first interdimensional travel and escaping the reality before there could be a chance of ending up as a Perpetual in a dying galaxy of madness.  
I was truly sorry but Big-E, will have to find someone else for the spectral shitstains to torture. With growing confidence I could declare that I seemed to have succeeded in my effort, as unbelievable as it may have been.

“Far future of milky way, kiss my ass. Galaxy Far Far away, here I come!” I cried out mentally. With this great turn of events I started something that some could theoretically call maniacal laughter along with involuntarily induced series of movements that could be with a great deal of guesswork called a Victory dance. That is until my brain was hit by several startling realisations it had came up with.

First, they are not giant, they are of normal size, which let to number two.

Second, I am laughably small. Fact confirmed by a bit of squirming, turning and getting my hand in front of my face.

Third, I am a freaking, BABY!

Fourth, that humming/ringing in my ears, is in fact not in my ears but rather in my mind.

Fifth, judging from the presence of Yoda and the other two that I can now state with certainty are Jedi, I am in the Jedi Temple Creche.

Sixth, according to the facts of points Four and Five, we can fairly say that I am force sensitive. Damn, another supernatural power. At least this one will not bite my in the arse like Warp can, speaking of which…

Seven, YEP!, I can still touch the warp. DAMN IT!, at least from that point of view it looks like I am the only soul-bearing being in the galaxy, yay! No deamons. Nifty!

Eight, while I am still a baby,I still am reasonably certain that my bioimplants are still there, all of them. Which made absolutely zero sense given their implantation in later stages of my life and weren't supposed to be transferable upon my offspring.

And finally nine, I will have to endure another twenty or so years of growing up and being all around treated as an incompetent fool.

And with that I definitely did not release my anguish in an incomprehensible cry of, “Noooooo………”

Grandmaster Yoda looked upon the screaming youngling lying in a crib in front of him. He gently placed his hands on his trusty walking stick, leaned and studied said youngling.

He looked human and according to healers he was, mostly. They could not say with certainty as the Force gave them no answers and the genetic tests done by the machines could not differentiate several sequences of the genome. 

He appeared human, but there were predictions concerning the future growth of his body as the full effect of the unknown sequences are going to come into full force.

Healers theorised about a possibility of increased performance which would make him stand well above the crowd. Both in physical aspects as well mental. No one could agree if it were an act of evolutionary pressure of some undiscovered far away world or a more terrifying possibility of skillful genetic manipulation.  
Perhaps an effort of creating ultimate super-soldier. Grandmaster Yoda knew without a doubt that many Knights would need to be sent to discover the truth.

But he did not come here to trouble his hearth. He always wandered to the creche to ease his spirit in troubled times as he could only in a bright innocent presence of the young. Those full of wonder and untouched by harsh lessons of life.

“Hmpft,” he grunted. No matter where he came from, his future would be certainly interesting to watch. Of that Yoda held little doubt.

“Yes, interesting your future will be, little one,” he whispered to the youngling that did not pay him any attention at all and smiled to himself.

Only later, during his reflections on the past, he would realise how prophetic those worlds would be.


	2. Chapter I - Uneasy Beginings

CHAPTER I  
“The galaxy is an intricate place. You think you are doing the right thing, but then it has consequences you never imagined.”  
Jedi Consular Nadia Grell

Chapter I – Uneasy Beginnings

Location: Jedi Temple, apparently the one on Coruscant  
Date: Still no damn idea

Confusing or not, I had already some experience with such situations. Given the fact that unlike the last time, I knew exactly where I was. Therefore the next item on the list was determining exact temporal placement, as any reasonable person in my position would. Unfortunately there were a few mild inconveniences.

While an exceedingly simple task on itself the various accompanying complications resulted in effort spanning several years. An admission which I will take this little fact to my grave – should I actually manage to die someday. The crux of the problem did not lie in the unattainability of said piece of information, but rather in a lack of opportunities to gain possession of the information.

At first there was the unavoidable fact that as a child I was essentially confined to the creche without any viable venue of escape other than growing up. A rather tedious and time consuming process generally regarded as an unpleasant feeling in upper musculature of lower limbs, in other worlds 'pain in the arse'. 

Then there was a second complication. While it was no question that I possessed mental faculties of someone much, a gross understatement, much more mature than a child whose age could not reach double digits, the problem was lying in the fact that I lacked the skills necessary to properly navigate myself in written form of Basic, the so called Aurebesh alphabet. It is simply baffling of them to disregard the good old Latin or Cyrillic based alphabet.

That being true, it still did not sit comfortably with me to stand more or less idle for those five years. Thus, I can proudly state that this was the time of laying down the foundations of the first phase of my glorious plan-in-the-making. Such statement definitely is truer than accusation of skulking and trying to overhear any and all conversations possible. If I were to do that then the Warp-based abilities would prove a great advantage in enhancing skulking abilities, especially given the lack of proper master of the Force. But alas, as I said I did not resort to such low-handed measures and as such could not possibly know how to overhear whispered conversation on the other side of the hall.

Not a small portion of my time has been dedicated to other creche inhabitants who seemed much closer to my indicated biological age rather than mental or chronological. At the end of the day, one truth remained the same. Allies were always needed and what better place to make them than kindergarten. If you were the same age as them that is.

Fortunately for me, there was a certain skill that allowed me to survive the earliest years with much of my sanity intact. One of the most crucial skills in the military is the ability to sleep anytime and anywhere at the drop of the hat. After all, you never know just how much time you have and thus it is irresponsible to waste it. My firm belief is that the total amount of hours I spend asleep back then amounted to at least a year which I did not have to fend off boredom. Especially in those early stages of bodily development.

Even though I managed to hear quite a lot, I swear I was not purposefully listening in, much of overheard information ultimately proved to be of little use. Only the story of my recruitment proved to be of some interest. Not only because it explained my presence in the temple itself but because it also explained the origin of my name.

From what I had been told, lone wet-behind-ears Jedi Knight had been stopped by a tall slender stranger on one of the markets of Brentaal IV.. Said stranger wore a very effectively concealing cloak and thus there was little hope of identification. Knight had been asked for assistance which he offered apparently without a second thought. At this point I had been unceremoniously dumped onto said Knight. By all accounts the Knight had been greatly bewildered by this turn of events. By the time Knight came back to his senses the stranger vanished leaving the Knight with one kid and hand-written card with my name and phrase, “Good luck.”

From there the story is straightforward. My Force-sensitivity was discovered and after a brief discussion with the temple I was brought in. Most of my impromptu investigations proved to be dead ends with nothing worthwhile gained.

What slightly miffed me was my classification as near-human. A catch-all term for human genetic-offshoots in this galaxy. My reaction was more or less simple, “Really? NEAR-human? I am as pure human baseline as possible, if you do not take GeneMods into account. OH, GeneMods… now I get it.” 

There was also my name, Calen Volkov. Generic sounding name for Valhallan, but it should be stated that by this time it was still tropical paradise world and not a frigid ice cube populated by drunken space russians.

Since no one had any idea who was that mysterious stranger there was little to act on in that particular line of investigation. Although I had a few assumptions, I more or less believed those held in my suspicion would not resort to such actions. At least I hoped, if only because it brought with itself another questions. There would be a rather heated conversation should we meet again.

In the end the matter of timelines proved to be an easily solved issue, once I could actually get to it. There was a slight problem with orientation and multiple galactic calendars. I could not orient myself by major events with questions like, “How long till the Battle of Yavin?” since it had yet to happen or, “How long ago was the Treaty of Coruscant?” because I shouldn't possibly even know about it. Even better was the inquiry, “How long ago has it been since the Tho Yor arrival?” 

My best guess was that the amount of people who knew about it could be counted on the fingers of one human hand. There was also the fact that my main source of information were the History classes rather than unlimited access to Jedi Archives. Additionally, I could not simply press some unfortunate Knight or Master to the wall with my abilities and interrogate them with my burning questions.

My lack of precise knowledge on the later years of Republic hampered me in certain areas since there was no way how could I ask about events that had yet to take place. My inability to orient myself in accordance to the first battle of Yavin IV proved to be somewhat irritating.

It was necessary for me to keep a shroud of inconspicuousness around me so as not to draw undue attention. From both the High Council and darker parties taking interest in the Order. All of my plans counted on at least partial obscurity of the shadows. Some things simply cannot be done in the light. I needed to avoid actions raising too many questions.

The first item on the agenda were the history classes. History has always been a hobby of mine. Thank the heavens, or should I say Force, that the Jedi do not postpone the education of their young too much. While the first year itself proved much more nerve-grating than anticipated eventually it passed. Total knowledge gain neared absolute zero. Greatest achievement from the first year were my Aurebesh writing and reading skills. Second year proved to be much more fruitful, thanks to the fact, because that year we began the history classes amongst others. It proved to be a bit of a disappointment given their sole orientation on post-rusaan republic. Thanks to these lessons I managed to pinpoint my arrival somewhere in the later decades of the Golden Age of the Republic. 

Eventually as time went on and we aged the initiates as a whole received a bit easier regime. We were also finally allowed access to the Archives. My clan mates would often find me in the archives from that moment. It was also in the archives where I finally cracked the enigma of the timelines. One calm evening I was given free reign over a terminal as a part of work for the next lesson. Thanks to the later hours of the day most of the Archives were empty with only a few scattered initiates or padawans. Single Knight sat on the other end of the table furiously scowling at his terminal. 

With such an opportunity it was time for me to do some searching for particular past event that I knew exactly where to place it in the future Galactic Standard Calendar centered around the Battle of Yavin. Murmuring to myself, I carefully typed into the search bar, The Treaty of Coruscant. Only a scant few milliseconds later the terminal displayed the results of my search for me to see.

Far fewer than I expected given its significance and the prideful talks about the extensive records of the Archives. Few historical papers written by Jedi Historians, some political studies, and several entries contents of which were useless to me. The compiled summary from connected database in the nearby Galactic Museum in Collective Commerce district, CoCo Town for short. Given the origin of the summary and link between the databases I deemed it more than reasonable that they got the dating correctly.

“Treaty of Coruscant is a direct result of surprise Sith Assault during the climax of the Great Galactic War… “ I scrolled down and skimmed the text reading an odd paragraph here and there. Then at the bottom of the page I found nice table of contents with various dating systems, “... this event occured 3 578 years ago.”  
Then came a slight mental gymnastics as I juggled with dates, “3578 years ago, Treaty occurred at 3653 BBY. That means, I am currently at 73 BBY.” Giving me more than enough time for me to save uncounted lives. 

“Last I heard, my biological age is nine, which means my birth is approximately 81 BBY,” I mused to myself, more out of curiosity rather than anything else. Closing the search engine and shutting off the terminal I went back to the Initiate dorms I shared with the rest of my clan assigned to me. 

The fruits of today's work were juicy enough to keep my curiosity sated some time. As I settled down on my bunk bed, I looked at the occupant bellow. A two years younger togruta, called Nareen, snored loud enough to pass for a dozen men while managing to completely discard her blanked. I smiled at that, once long ago I was not that different with my sleeping habits. Backtracking I took the blanked and tucked it firmly around her before I went to sleep myself. As I drifted off, it occured to me that it would be prudent for me to guard my words and actions so as to avoid unneeded attention given to to little old me as a result of actions or worlds no child would do.

929 Years after Rusaan/ 71BBY  
10 years old

As I aged the years passed faster and faster. Most likely it was because I could actually do something unlike the earliest years. As the lessons moved to more complex issues than “1+1=2” so did my urge to claw out my eyes lessen. The outstanding dedication of the instructors helped, it truly proved to be their calling in almost every case. They proved to be able to hold the attention of their students and did not shy away from answering uncomfortable questions, even if they contradicted the moral of the story told.

History class still remained my most looked up to point of the day, along with the basics of hyperdrive navigation. Thankfully, the I-want-to-kill-myself type of schooling was finally over and the instructors moved to much more interesting topics.

There were few instances in which I railed against my teachers expectations. Not to put them in bad light, more likely than not it was not done out of malice rather merely ignorance of the true sequence of events. After all, the only reason I knew about it was thanks to my fourth-wall meta-knowledge.

Most of the time it showed in areas heavily based on facts like history rather than astronavigation. It seemed like certain maneuvers, mostly gravitic slingshots were not practiced in this galaxy, unlike the last one. 

It was belief of my clan mates that I gathered some ill will from our history instructor during the lesson on Mandalorian Excision in particular. A preemptive Republic onslaught of Mandalorian space. I had a brief argument with the instructor over the nature of the attack but I think she welcomed it.

“Master Nirai, didn't the overall wealth of the entire region plumet in the aftermath of the attack?” I asked her once she paused in her explanation of the necessity of the assault.

It threw her for a loop as she scratched her ritualistic tattoo on her chin thinking about it. I liked that about her, no matter the question asked she would do her best to answer truthfully. I've tested that before. 

“While it is true that the overall trade with mandalorian space is at all time high,” she admitted after some deliberation, “in combination with the exodus the vast majority of its inhabitants do indeed live in poverty.”

“Wouldn't it have been better to leave the sector as separate polity?” I continued with my line of thought. By now the rest of the class realised that this was another round in my ever-continuing series of discussions.

To her credit, Master Nirai seemed rather pleased by my incessant questioning and did her best to answer it. “Yes, in certain areas you are correct. However as you well know the senate at the time grew worried that the new distribution of power in the galaxy after the New Sith Wars could lead to another round of mandalorian conquest,” she eventually postulated after a moment of thought. 

There was still another hypothesis of mine and since Master Nirai and I were already debating I saw no reason not to put it up, “But didn't the subsequent suppression of traditional mandalorian values without providing sufficient substitute create far more complications in the long run?” 

Just barely I could hear Aligran whisper to Chankar bit exasperated, “Well, there goes another one.” Chankar simply snorted and I could sense her amusement but the truth was that Aligran was right. It was debate time now.  
Basics of math proved one of the hardest classes for me to endure. Learning once again that 1+1=2 was one of the worst days of my, admittedly long, life. The repetitive nature of it caused me a feeling of dying brain-cells, at least they recognized it and bumped me upwards. It was common practice in the temple, initiates were moved up and down the classes in accordance to their skills, so long as they did not fail completely. 

Biology proved to be a welcome surprise. Studying anatomies of varying species of this galaxy yielded many insights unknown to me before. Be it hearing abilities of twi'lek or resilience of zabraks. This particular field had been dampered by limitation of study to books, schematic drawings and few carefully censored holograms. I understood full well it was not wise to show group of ten to fourteen-year-olds autopsies but it still chafed at me.

Mechanics on the other had proved to be a heaven-sent paradise with nearly unlimited access to the temple's resources. Within reason. Once the instructors were certain their students would not electrocute themselves they gave us a great deal of latitude. I already knew a thing or two about engineering, but I always appreciated seeing new schools of thought. Especially when they directly contradicted several crucial elements of my old teachings and of course, playing with new tech is always fun.

All in all, I had successfully managed the first step on the road to knighthood and full membership in the Jedi Order and perks that came along with it. I have been officially granted the rank of grunt, … I mean Initiate. It happened the day our batch of toddlers were deemed sufficiently intelligent to tell bathroom and canteen apart. After all, do not defecate where you eat is a very sound saying. Everyone was assigned to a certain clan. The Masters in charge of creche told that it was decided by our character traits and our foreseen personalities. I had a fairly strong suspicion they pulled it out of their ass.

I had been assigned to the so-called Bear clan. They sputtered something about courage, bravery, tenacity and other such grox-shit. If it was indeed based on my foreseen behaviour then they were grossly misled and I had no hearth to tell them that those predicted attributes were more likely results of pretty much genetic terran obstinacy in combination with gross lack of basic self-preservation instincts. They somehow dull after your body dies a few couple of times. Given the fact that while dying proved to be rather painful more often than not, there had been almost no way for me to die, permanently. Once you do that for nearly five millenia you end up with quite a mess of a person, it was a small miracle I was not insanely blabbering lunatic by now.

While I was not certain about my continuing immortality, I was fairly certain that I did not catch any of those crucial instincts back. Perpetuality is a directly Warp-based curse, for lack of a better term and there was no telling how would it clash with the Force. As for the obstinacy, well I am afraid that that particular attribute is deeply ingrained into the psyche of every single son and daughter of Terra as far as I know. Its symptoms are drastically different on a case by case basis. 

Sometimes it is a simple, “Impossible is not in my vocabulary,” and “What do you mean, Iceball planets are unsuitable for living? Nonsense, watch me.” Other times it displays as claim, “Tis but a flesh wound! I have had worse,” whislist missing rather important bodily bits. This particular trait would no doubt prove highly useful in the years to come, and problematic as well.

It was not unexpected that I was not alone in this clan. I had to give it to the Masters who sorted out the clans since almost instantly the clan fit together personality-wise. Some names rang a bell, and I knew they would make a name for themselves in the future. It briefly surprised me to end up in the same group for a moment but I quickly rationalised that there was no reason for surprise. 

Among my clan-members counted names like Ilena Xan, Arligan Zey, Kast Fulier, Elle Leska and Chankar Kim. Then there were three others I had not heard about before. From those three stood out togruta by the name Nareen, from quite early on she had gravitated towards me and almost every single sparring match I participated in had been against her. It was a question whether or not she had a crush on me or not. It was anyone's guess what went through her head when she looked at me. Or she wanted to bite me, not sure, could be both. Probably the latter since she always smiled and showed me her canines when she caught my eye.

I was at a loss about what I should do. It would be easier if we were a bit older given her striking appearance. Mostly orange-reddish skin with purple-blue gently curving markings and purplish/white montrals. She proved to be a quick learner when it came to combat oriented studies and combined with her physiology she often gave me a run for my money. I had the skills, but they did not translate well to my new body. 

It was my belief that it was what drew her to me, as I was the only one in our clan who could match her predatorial strength and reflexes during our spars. It wasn't that hard to see that she loved a challenge and since we were top of our class there were few people in our age bracket that could make her sweat. This was one of the reasons I found the lightsaber classes relaxing, and I have caught myself looking toward them more than once.

Lightsabre proved to be a strange weapon early on and my muscle memory couldn’t quite grasp its weight distribution. It is completely different to fight with it than with power sword. Speaking of which, who the hell gives ten or eleven-year-olds fully functional PLASMA swords. They are indeed dialled down, but I was fairly sure that I could still kill someone with it, or just poke an eye out. 

Even the gene-modded Federation Solar Guard back there started training with not-so-pointy-sticks for crying out loud, and they were accomplished soldiers beforehand.

All in all, everything was going smooth so far. I managed to survive crèche without committing suicide, if only because I wasn’t really sure I wouldn’t have to go through all that again. My Initiate years were progressing smoothly and I had formed good bonds with my clan-mates, who had gained the first aspect of their maturity, thank the Force. And last but not least, I had a lot of time to prepare for Darth Syphilis, I mean Sidious. From what I remembered, and found in official Naboo records, I was only two years younger than him. 

Just enough time for me to wreck carefully prepared plans of his predecessors and sip tea by the fireplace while claiming everything to be going, “Just as planned.”


End file.
